


Palaces Out of Paragraphs

by orphan_account



Series: I Hope You've Learned to be Satisfied [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feels, James Reynolds is an asshat, Lmao what even are Ao3 tags idk how they work, Loosely based on this one animatic, Maria didn't really do anything wrong except for cheat with Alex but that's another rant, Songfic, The Reynolds Pamphlet, This personally made me tear up a bit writing idk about you but, burn - Freeform, cheating tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:07:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eliza finds out about the Reynolds Pamphlet through her sister and spends some alone time.





	Palaces Out of Paragraphs

**Author's Note:**

> This was loosely based upon an animatic I saw ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bk619FfpuYo)  
> The lyrics are intentionally out of order. This is just so it fits the plot better, and the lyrics (well, the lines in the stanzas are in order, it’s just the stanzas themselves that aren’t chronologically written) are just as jumbled up as poor Eliza’s thought process.

Angelica rushed into my bedroom with a pamphlet in her hand. I stood up to greet her with a smile, despite her troubled expression. “Angie!” I say with a welcoming grin, reaching out to hug her, “How have you been, sister-”

I was soon stopped by her pressing the pamphlet into one of my outstretched hands before I could embrace her. Still ignorant of the situation, my grin only faltered in surprise. 

“What’s- what’s this?” I look up at her and take a look at the title.  _The Reynolds Pamphlet_ , it read. My mind finally pieced together the fragments that it perceived as I read the contents it had to offer. 

I believe that the realization showed itself on my face as I plopped down onto my bed because my dearest Angelica sat beside me and encircled my shoulders with an arm. 

_She said, “You’ve married an Icarus who has flown too close to the sun”._

My eyes skimmed over the page, and every page, every paragraph, every sentence, every  _word_  was so alien as if an impostor posed as my husband and published this- this description of an  _affair_ that he allegedly committed. The tears slowly built up behind my eyes, the ache that wasn’t unlike the one that was forming in my chest at the time.

It was the worst pain ever, knowing that I wasn’t good enough for even my own husband. Like the buildup of the water behind a dam, the aching grew sharper and sharper and grew and grew and welled up until I couldn’t breathe or think as everything faded around me and, I just couldn’t-

“Eliza!” Angelica shook me out of my thoughts, and her pleading brown eyes were what almost anchored me back to reality. Almost. 

I crumpled and uncrumpled the wretched pamphlet, a force of habit from whenever I was nervous or on the verge of breaking down. I felt, but barely registered, her hugging me and gently rocking us back and forth as if we were both in need of comfort (we both were). I wiped the nonexistent tears from my eyes and started to read the words that were the source of my misery. 

_You and your words obsessed with your legacy…_

My eyes skimmed the pages as the tears started to well up.  _How dare he talk as if- as if it were just a_ sacrifice _?! How dare he let the world know about this and let them intrude on our lives?!_

 _Your sentences border on senseless_  
_You are paranoid in every paragraph_  
 _How they perceive you_  
 _You, you, you_

Without warning, I bolted up and started ripping the papers to shreds, first halves, then quarters, and on and on until all I had left in my hands was a pile of indistinguishable characters. The fireplace roared, as if it were doing so in approval or upheaval, both interpretations were acceptable in my state of upset, as I tossed the fragments into the flames. 

_I’m watching it…_

Before I went any further, I took yet another deep breath and looked back at Angelica with imploring eyes. She nodded with an understanding and sad smile and quietly left the room. After she silently closed the door on her way out, I turned back to the fire and let my eyes travel to the now smoldering pile of ash that was the accursed Reynolds Pamphlet. 

_Burn._

I shakily took a wooden box off of the shelf that was above the fireplace and took a deep breath. 

_I saved every letter you wrote me…_

Steadying my hands, I set it on the desk of our bedroom and took a long hard look at it. Angelica, my daughter, had painted the birch wood with swirls and flowers of her choosing, marking it as a box that signified happiness. The lock was little more than a clasp that anyone could open, and the thing itself was little more than the size of the Bible we had in Alexander’s study.

I pulled the most recent letter out and started reading it.

_From the moment I read them,  
I knew you were mine…_

His writing was eloquent with a hint of his actual brash and lovable personality, and everything he said warmed my heart with the deepest of love.

_You said you were mine  
I thought you were mine._

Alexander’s reassurances never failed to soothe me. He had the ability to manipulate his words until I was comforted as if he was actually there holding me. 

_You and your words flooded my senses_   
_Your sentences left me defenseless…_

Before I knew it, I was reading through all the letters that I kept, my mind searching for that  _hold_  that I had whenever he sent a letter and I read it. He made me feel like I was on top of the world, his words were like the summer sun on my back, the warm breeze that ruffled my hair. He was- his words were  _perfect_. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, the ghost of his scent there to fill my heart with a warmth that spread throughout me to the tips of my fingers. 

_You built me palaces out of paragraphs…_

He always described in beautiful detail of the sights we could see when we were younger. The breathtaking views along the coast if we got up early enough to see the sunrise, the wonderful cacophony of seagulls. 

_You build cathedrals._

His letters, his poems, his alliteration, his enunciation, his very  _being_. Alexander Hamilton was almost heavenly. It was as if he were  _too_  perfect. My mind quickly drifted towards a more cynical point of view as I scanned and re-read the letters I once held so dear to my heart. 

_I’m re-reading the letters you wrote me_   
_I’m searching and scanning for answers_

_In every line_   
_For some kind of sign_   
_Of when you were mine_   
_The world seemed to…_

When did his demeanor change? Was there any correlation to how he acted when he was or wasn’t having an illicit affair? Suddenly, my eyes started flitting from paragraph to paragraph, page to page, until it felt like everything was about to-

_Burn…_

Finally exhausted from analyzing and re-analyzing the pieces of paper, I put them back into the box and clasped the lid shut. _Forget about the happy memories you once had with him,_ I thought, trying to will myself to not break down. A heavy numbness settled upon me and I slowly picked up the box. It felt like the weight of the world was nestled in it, so I relieved myself of my burden. 

The wood cracked upon impact with a burning log. The greedy fire licked the edges of the papers that slipped out. The crackle of the flames mingled with the rushing of blood in my ears, and a burning  _anger_  pierced through the apathy that was just beginning to settle on my shoulders. 

I sat down at the desk and angrily picked up a quill while yanking a piece of parchment paper. I scribbled angrily, tears finally welling up in my eyes and falling down onto the ink, messing it up. I didn’t care, I just wrote and wrote until I had a stanza in front of me. Some ink splatters found themselves on my backs of my hands, but I just didn’t care. The tears also fell atop my hands, mixing with the black to create a sheer gray. 

_You forfeit all rights to my heart!_   
_You forfeit the place in my bed!_   
_You sleep in your office instead!_   
_With only the memories of when you were mine!_

The tears were flowing freely from my eyes as they pooled around the ink, like a bittersweet painting dotted with regrets and broken pieces of what we shared. I shook my head and made a fist with my left hand, balling up part of the words I all but engraved into the paper and stood up. I stood before the hearth and looked down at the burning letters one last time. 

I turned away and threw the paper into the flames to join the tinder I already set down. Before I collapsed onto the bed to cry, only one thought rang through my head. 

_I hope that you_

_Burn…_

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated! (I love constructive criticism, it's not expected but it's nice to see an occasional tip here and there)


End file.
